The Thaw
A wren rises, spilling sun
from her beak. Nuns
are buying asparagus
from roadside stands
and beginning to dance.
Winter hardened us,
sidewalks slick and dark,
the wind spinning past,
late for mayhem.
We shrank.
Now we grow affable
as dandelions, cozy
at the center, smiling
like children dazzled
by sidewalk chalk.
We soak in thoughts
of summer like lovers
in a claw-foot tub scented
with clary sage. Our sleep
deepens at long last
into dreams.
Tracy Mishkin is a call center veteran with a PhD and an MFA student in Creative Writing at Butler University. Her chapbook, I Almost Didn’t Make It to McDonald’s, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2014.
Wonderful imagery in ‘The Thaw”. Emerging from winter melts even our insides.
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So many good lines in this, Tracy. “A wren rises, spilling sun/ from her beak” drew me immediately in. Wow.
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I am so proud of you, Tracy. This is beautiful.
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This captures early spring so perfectly. “Affable / as dandelions” — exactly! Thank you for writing this.
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